Prepared
by TheCrustyCrusader
Summary: A self-narration from Snape's POV during the third task, and events leading to it. Please, if you read it, review it!


Disclamer: I don't own the charecters. The story is JK Rowlings. This is only a fan fiction.*sob* There, I said it.  
  
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You would think I'd be prepared. That panic was out of the question. After all, it's not like I hadn't been forboding it all year. And I've certainly been summoned my fair share of times. I've been trying to fool myself for ages. Every time I'd see it, growing clearer like a black reminder of what I'd done so many years ago. Glimpsing it in the mirror and trying to blow it off as a matter of little importance. It was but a shadow of what it was, a mere mark I could pass off as a scratch. "A mere inkstain." I would whisper to myself. "Perhapse a bruise." I would comfort my thoughts. But the fact was that as it took a more horrific and familiar shape, I continued to pretend that it wasn't a problem. That it wasn't etching itsself into my mind... Invading my thoughts.  
  
I acted normal at dinner in the castle. When we went down to the Hogshead I would play it casual. They didn't seem to notice. After all, being a spy it wasn't the first time I'd hidden behind a mask... Not to mention that they probably thought I was still crooning over Black's escape... Wich I would be doing if there weren't more pressing matters perturbing my thoughts. Sometimes I would look into my goblet, or just at my dinner plate, in a thoughtful transe. Minerva would often look at me strangely... I beleive she knew something was wrong. She knew about my past. I know she knew what I was... But I don't thik she ever made the connection.  
  
Sometimes she'd ask me what was on my mind... Try to get me to talk to her. I never confided in Minerva about it... I would say that I just "Couldn't stand those blundering students." Or that "That blasted poltergeist was bugging the hell out of me." Yet, she still looked at me a bit oddly, and would walk through the halls the longer route to her room just to keep an eye on me, or keep me company on the way. She would say that she wanted to burn off the dinner, or check on her office, but I saw through that. Yes, Minerva and I seemed to find each other as clear as glass when it came to keeping secrets.  
  
It was when Albus got a letter that I was finding it harder to fool myself. Potter's scar was hurting, and he seemed to be trying to hide his concern much the same as me. And we both had the same hope, and question: Is it possible that there is no real reason that this is happening?  
  
One time in the staff room, I tried to bring it up... Or rather, tried not to. Poppy was there, and we were both doing paperwork. I thought she might know something about it, seeing how she was a nurse. I tried to be blase' about it, but something gave me away. Perhapse it was the way I stuttered as I spoke.  
  
"Eh, d-d'you think-m..." I stupidly stated rather loudly. "I mean, do you suppose that a magical mark that's faded... Well that it could ever come back? I was just curious, wondering you know. Read something about it the other day." I heard the words come tumbling out of my mouth and vowed to brew a poison for myself as soon as I got out of there.  
  
She gave me a sideways glance, the way she always does. The way she has done to every person who's ever shown up in the hospital wing with an odd injury or problem. That penetrating little glimpse that conveyed a deeper knowledge than we would want to see. But she asked no questions. She very rarely did. And I'm grateful for that.  
  
"It's possible." she simply stated. "It's difficult to say, if I know very little about the mark. But in my professional opinion, a magical mark would probably have a motive, or reason to reappear."  
  
She then claimed that she needed to go do paperwork, and left me sitting there.  
  
When Karkaroff arrived I was a bit anxious. He would pass me little half-glances sometimes. Then one day the insufferable twit came up to me in the middle of class and wanted to talk right then. But I insisted to stay. I held my ground, keeping the same face I had been showing for weeks. And I couldn't be suspicious, especially with Sherlock Holmes sitting in the front row.  
  
I finally told Albus. He looked worried, and seemed grateful for me telling him. He gave me a supporting , meaningfull look. He heaved a sigh and said "Thank you." And that was it.  
  
I remember when it happened... though it seemes foggy and distant, yet so close. Many of the staff had just entered the maze to fish out one of the champions, and I had an eerie feeling. Everything seemed uneasey and alert around me. It may have just been my nerves because of the final task. Just waiting for it to be done with, and anticipating the inter-school, or possibly inter-house aftermath we would face in the week ahead. There was a unanimous ghasp, and much muttering quite suddenly from the stands. Someone must have won. I knew we were to head to the entrance once there was a winner, and started off.  
  
For a few minutes I continued around the perimeter, and couldn't help but notice many confused faces in the stands. I hesitated. There wasn't any cheering, and the atmosphere became tense. There seemed to be something wrong.  
  
It came suddenly. A bolt of pain shooting up my arm, like a blade running against my skin. It's odd when your heart skips a beat, then races so quickly you can't keep up. A spill of dizziness poured over me, and I felt momentarily light headed. I subconsiously was clutching my forearm to my chest as I leaned in against the branches and leaves of the hedge. Minerva was a few yards ahead, and was startled by the stiffled yell of pain that I made.  
  
She quickly came my way, and I was sure there was a worried fear in her eyes. She seemed helpless and unsure what to do. She wanted to help, but she had never encountered this. She attempted to reach out, and recoiled. She didn't know what to do.  
  
Images of my past swirled before my eyes. Memories of my Death Eater raids. It seemed almost uniformly that I began to stride away quickly, as I would have done so many years ago. Get to the appropriate apparating point. After a few paces I halted and something clicked on in my brain. I was heading the wrong way... I had to alert Dumbledore. Tell him something was wrong. Tell him what I knew had happened.  
  
Now that I had come to my senses, I was focused, and aware of my surroundings. Now that I had a goal: get to Dumbledore as quickly as possible. Make sure he knows. We had to do something. He had to know.  
  
I knew he would be at the maze's entrance by now. I turned and rushed past Minerva. As I crossed her she backed out of my course.  
  
"S-Severus? What's happened?" She questioned urgently.  
  
I had soon developed a runnig pace. I was scarcely aware of the panicing in the crowds above me. Karkaroff was rushing towards me. We both stopped when we reached each other. He looked terrified. He gave me a meaningfull glare, then set off out of the stadium. I didn't even try to stop him. I knew he couldn't be persuaded to stay. He'd sooner kill me just to escape.  
  
For a fleeting moment I looked longingly after him, and had it in my mind to set off as well. To get out of there and go into hiding. But I had to go and help Albus. He needed me, and I had to earn the trust he had given me. I had to help him when he'd done so much for me.  
  
It seemed an eterity of all of us trying to control the chaos. Trying to decide what we should do. We didn't know what to do.  
  
When Potter appeared, we were unsure what to expect. Diggoy was dead. I remember the scene like a painting, slapped over my eyes. Potter's hand was clasped to Diggory's wrist. He wouldn't let go. It seemed like he couldn't.  
  
I know there was screaming. I know the noise was roaring around us. I just couldn't hear it. It was like someone was holding their hands over my ears.  
  
I could see it happening all over again. The devestation we faced fourteen years ago. It was like seeing an old picture beneath one of the headlines that showed another innocent life claimed by the Dark Lord.  
  
Fudge made things difficult. He was trying to fool himself like I did. He had to muddle things up. He outright refused what was happening. Icould hear Albus trying to get Fudge to cooperate, and I saw his eyes, and a hopeless rage grew inside me.. If we at least had the ministry behind us. If we didn't have them to bolster our fight against the Dark Lord we would be a step behind once he started his raids.  
  
I could no longer hold myself back. I showed him my mark in fury. I shouldn't have done it. Especially with so many people there. It didn't help anyway. He shook his head in disbelief, and didn't seem to take in my words. I had no hold on him, and I hated it. His horror showed plainly on his face, and it never faltered. He looked at me as if he finally saw me clearly...  
  
It's the begining of dark days, and in the first strike, Potter was caught in the crossfire. I still can't beleive that he survived. If I can say one thing for him, his ability to survive is remarkable, and I say this without sarcasm. I know he'll end up playing a roll in this war. It seems his horrible fate to have his life thrown about like it is.  
  
As much as I hate it, I have a roll to play too. There's a reason why I didn't flee like Igor did. I have to do my job no matter how much my senses tell me not to. Albus trusts me. I have to do what my job is, and do what I can to help. I made an aweful mistake when I was younger, and I must do what I can to repay him. For beleiving in second chances.  
  
I know what I have to do. He asked if I was ready...If I was prepared. The truth ...The truth is I'm not. How can I be? Walking back into death's grip isn't something you can be ready for. But I will. I have to. 


End file.
